Electric
by happysneezenutella
Summary: When Sandor flees the Battle of Blackwater, he seeks shelter in the only place he can think of. Sandor/OC.
1. Introduction

**Hey Guys! This is the first time I've written any fanfiction in forever! I used to when I was much younger, but hopefully my writing has gotten a lot better. In any case, this story is about Sandor and an original character, but trust me when I say there will be some interesting interactions with lots of characters, especially with Sansa. While this is not a Sansa/Sandor fic, they are my favourites. Please let me know if there are any discrepancies and feedback is always appreciated!**

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Alaynne woke slowly, her body and mind still aching to remain in bed. Dawn had not yet broken, and the world outside her tiny window was still dark. Internally, however, she know it was time to start her day. She glanced around the room she now shared with Sansa's newest handmaiden, Shae. She was not there, of course. She rarely was. Shae did not like Alaynne, did not seem to like anyone, but Alaynne thought she should at least be happy she was not rooming with a Lannister spy. Alaynne considered herself to be loyal only to Sansa, although she was careful not to make it too obvious.

Yawning and stretching, she placed her feet on the ground and shuddered at the cold. She quickly set about heating up water for a quick bath, knowing Sansa liked her entourage to smell clean, at the very least. Luckily for Sansa, Alaynne's only luxury in life was the care she took with her personal hygiene. Lowering herself into the bath, Alaynne shivered with pleasure as the warmth engulfed her. She scrubbed at her body, removing the previous day's filth and grime, and then gingerly placed a tiny amount of rose oil in her palm, massaging it through her newly clean hair and over her body. Sansa always said she smelled lovely.

Alaynne smiled at the thought. Sansa's life had become so bleak and ugly, and the girl loved beautiful things, that Alaynne was glad to bring her any type of happiness. While she was only ten and eight years herself, she felt almost motherly towards the Young Wolf. Alaynne had been in King's Landing for barely a year when the Starks arrived, and she was assigned to be Sansa's handmaiden straight away, probably because she had allowed the Queen to think she was stupid. It was much safer to be stupid and unnoticeable in King's Landing, she had learned quickly. Since then, she had seen Sansa go through innumerable hardships and liked to think that they had become friends of some sort.

Alaynne realized she had spent far too much time in her bath, and hurried about the room. She poured the water down the little drain in the corner and quickly dressed in her plain, grey dress. Her hair had never been something she could manage, so she simply braided it so it would be out of her way, and went about her chores. She was hurrying to the kitchen to start preparing Sansa's morning tea and bath water, when she saw the great hulking form on the ground. Cautiously, she approached, although she soon came to realize that the mass could only belong to one man.

Sandor Clegane.

'Again...' she thought, exasperated. In the past few months, Clegane had taken his drinking even more seriously than usual, and she had found him like this, passed out in front of his room, innumerable times. She sighed. The stench of wine was noticeable even from this distance.

Alaynne walked over to him. There was a bit of drool on the unscarred side of his face that almost made her giggle. As her gaze moved to his scars, however, she sobered. She knew many others recoiled from his face, and she knew that it was gruesome. The taut, angry red skin and the thinning hair. Yet, in her village, she often tended to gruesome illnesses and wounds when the maester was away. Clegane's wounds simply made her sad. She knew his rage and hatred of everything stemmed from these scars, although she had never known for certain what caused them. There were rumours of his brother, yes, but it was difficult for her to imagine anyone being so cruel, especially to a young child. She found herself wondering how different he could have been on nights like this, when he was so calm and still.

Sighing, Alaynne bent down closer to his face, and nudged his shoulder with her fist.

"Clegane." she whispered harshly, and smacked his shoulder again. His eyes barely fluttered open before he grunted slightly and started to push himself up. Alaynne tried her best to help steady him, eventually wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She wasn't sure how much she helped, as her head barely reached the bottom of his massive ribcage. Clegane always made her aware of the insignificance of her body.

"Don't need your help, girl." Clegane muttered, but followed her into his room anyways. Alaynne rolled her eyes and helped him to his bed.

The force with which he fell upon it dragged her down with him, so that she ended up half laying upon him. Alaynne blushed, and tried to scramble away. He pulled her tighter, however, and she felt him breathe in the scent of her hair.

"Roses..." he whispered, and Alaynne began struggling again to get away.

"Sansa..." he breathed out, and Alaynne froze. He seemed to have finally found sleep again, and his grip loosened, allowing her to pull away. Once outside his room, she drew a shaky breath. Alaynne had suspicions about Clegane's feelings towards Sansa, the way he looked at her, but she always assumed that he had the good sense to suppress it. Her heart was racing as she imagined the ramifications of someone else hearing him whisper the Lady's name. There was also a twinge of sadness there, for Alaynne could never imagine his feelings being reciprocated. Besides his class and the fact that the Lannisters would never allow it, Sansa was still someone who admired beauty. While she may respect and fear the Hound, she could never love anything that reminded her of King's Landing. Alaynne knew that even she fell into that category. Shaking her head, she pushed on to the kitchens.


	2. Chapter I

**Hello, here's chapter one! Sorry if it took me a while to get this one out, I like to pace myself and I'm at work most of the day. I hope you all like it, even if it's a bit slow now it will pick up! I promise. This chapter is dedicated to crushnotsosecret who gave me my first review. Thanks so much :) **

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It was a beautiful day, Alaynne noted as she paused by one of the windows looking out onto the courtyard. King's Landing was a place so horrible due to men, and yet, somehow, still managed to radiate in the sun. She had come to King's Landing to make money, essentially. There was none in her village, and her father was always ill. Most of her wages were sent back home to him, leaving herself enough to eat. She hoped her father was doing well, even though she did not trust their maester to take care of him. No one really knew how to take care of him other than herself.

"My Lady?" Alaynne knocked softly on the door to Sansa's bedchamber. This was supposed to be Shae's job, yet they seemed to have come to an understanding over it, as Shae was never to be found and Alaynne quite enjoyed being the first to greet Sansa. Better her, with a cheery attitude and some kind words, then one of Cersei's spies with their piercing eyes and shifty looks.

"Come in, Alaynne." She closed the door behind her softly, seeing Sansa sitting on her bed, staring out her window. It was true that the Young Stark was beautiful, one of the most beautiful women Alaynne had ever seen. She was delicate and small, as if the slightest touch could bruise her pale skin. Alaynne had seen the true touches that had bruised her, however, and they were much more horrific than slight.

"Beautiful morning, is it not My Lady?" Shae often made fun of her for speaking _like a lady_, as she called it. Alaynne often huffed at that. She just thought the way that highborn ladies spoke was so beautiful and refined; it was hard to see the harm in it.

"I've told you, Alaynne, you can call me Sansa. You are my dearest friend here." Sansa turned to her with a small smile. Alaynne looked at her feet and nodded. She went about preparing Sansa's morning bath as the redhead told her of a dream she'd had, where she was back in Winterfell.

"It would be wonderful if you could find your way back soon, Sansa." Alaynne whispered as she helped her undress. There were still some unsightly bruises on her stomach and the back of her legs, so Alaynne brought out some of her special poultice and began applying it, hoping that it would relieve some of the pain. Sansa half-giggled and half-hissed as Alaynne touched her battered skin, and Alaynne looked at her apologetically.

"I'm sorry Sansa."

"Alaynne, please do not apologize. This has helped more than what the maester has given me. You are my very own healer." Sansa smiled at her, although she frowned when she caught sight of the bruises on her body.

"Do you think that one day they will cease to disappear? That I will remain bruised and scarred my entire life?" Alaynne could hear the tears in Sansa's voice.

"Bruises cannot scar, Sansa, and if there is anything that could we will treat it immediately." She helped Sansa into the bath, pouring water over her head to rinse out her hair. "Besides, you would still be the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms." She bent down to whisper in Sansa's ear, "Even more so than Cersei." Sansa giggled.

"You had better not let anyone catch you saying that, Alaynne." She shrugged.

"I've said and done worse, and gotten away with it. I'll give you some time in the bath and bring up some food to break your fast."

Alaynne's stomach almost growled as she gazed upon the food prepared for the Lords and Ladies of the castle. Bread, cheese, olives, dates, cold honey chicken, peaches. It was enough to feed all of King's Landing, she often thought. Most of the time it was barely touched. Alaynne often found herself at odds with the lifestyle of the Red Keep. On the one hand, she craved the beauty and nobility of those at court, and wished desperately to be a part of it, although she knew she never would. However, King's Landing had made it clear to her that these fantasies were not realities at the moment, that the Castle was a dangerous and ugly place. A house full of people playing a terrible game, in which no one seemed to win. Alaynne wondered why anyone wanted the damn throne so badly, when no one seemed content in it.

She brought the tray back to Sansa's room, and helped her into one of her beautiful silken dresses, this one the soft green of a meadow. As Sansa nibbled on her food like the lady she was, Alaynne brushed out her hair and began styling it in the Southern way that the King and Cersei preferred.

"You know, Alaynne, I do have other maids. You do not need to do everything yourself." Alaynne bristled slightly at this.

"Are you trying to get rid of me, My Lady?" Sansa turned to her, eyes wide.

"Oh no! That is not what I meant at all. I simply thought you might like some rest, you seem to never sleep." Alaynne chuckled softly and turned Sansa's head away once more so she could more easily style her hair.

"Well, I like to do things myself, if it pleases you. Those other maids are fickle and dishonest, if you want to know the truth of it. As for sleep, well, I'm used to very little. In my village there was not much time to sleep."

"Tell me about your home again, Alaynne, please."

"If it please you, My Lady, but I must say it is not a very exciting story." Sansa closed her eyes.

"It sounds so lovely and simple, so far away from here." Alaynne studied her sadly, wishing she could ease some of this girl's pain.

"Well, I was born in a little village outside of Rook's Rest, right on the coast. It somehow managed to escape most of the political turmoil that took the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, I suppose because we had nothing to offer anyone. The men fish and the women sew nets and that is most of what our existence consists of there. My father was a fisherman, and my mother came from Maidenpool one day to sell a special kind of silken rope, that would supposedly increase the durability of the fishermen's nets tenfold. My mother was said to have been very beautiful -"

"You did not know her?" Sansa looked at her, pity evident in her eyes. Alaynne shrugged.

"She died in childbirth with me, as is common. She had me at quite an old age, considering. Before me came my brother, ten years my elder, and he ruled the house for the most part. My father has always been ill, and was not a very good fisherman. Once my brother was old enough he took over the fishing, and we had much more to eat then. As I got older, I tended to the few chickens and pigs we had, as well as the horses. It was a simple life, to be sure, but our little village was beautiful. The bay was always sparkling in the sun, and most days I played down by the beach. Then one day my brother decided that he wanted to do more with his life, and he left us. We have not had a word from him since."

"That's terrible! Not a word to you at all? How could he do that to you?" Sansa was clearly shocked, and Alaynne almost felt bad for exposing her to such injustices, although they seemed slight in comparison to what she was accustomed to.

"Yes, it was a bit strange for him, it seemed out of character. Nevertheless, it happened. Afterwards, we would often go hungry and my father's illness got worse. When I reached seven and ten, my father told me that I needed to go to King's Landing to support him. So I did. I befriended one of the handmaidens here at the market, and began to work inside the castle's walls. The rest you know, My Lady." Alaynne stepped away from girl as she finished her hair. There were many, many details she had left out of her story. How her father had drowned her brother for trying to leave them, how she had let the handmaiden from the castle touch her in places she had never imagined, the way the cold bite of hunger nearly made her dig for worms...

"Well, despite the circumstances, I am glad that it is you here and no one else." Sansa's smile radiated warmth within her. Alaynne dipped her head shyly.

"Thank you, My Lady." There was a loud, heavy knock on the door to her bedchamber.

Alaynne opened the door to find herself staring at a broad, armoured chest. He no longer smelled of sour wine, at least. Her gaze lifted to his face, which was impassively staring past her head at the wall behind her.

"Yes, Clegane?" His eyes flitted down to her and she narrowed her own, trying to find some trace of gratitude or acknowledgement.

'He does not remember!' she thought with a start, her eyes widening in realization.

"His Grace requests the presence of the Lady Stark." Alaynne sighed and turned to Sansa, who looked positively terrified.

"What does he want?" Alaynne asked Clegane, rather brusquely. It irked her that he did not remember the way she had saved his hide.

"Ungrateful bastard..." she muttered under her breath. Clegane's eyes snapped to her, and she felt a small twinge of fear.

"What was that, girl?"

"N-nothing." Alaynne stuttered, cursing herself for being so weak. "What does His Grace require with My Lady?"

"Buggering hells, I don't know. The King sent me, so here I am. Best get a move on so he's not angry." Alaynne moved to Sansa's side and gently pulled her along, following behind Clegane's retreating back.

"It will be alright, My Lady, I am certain it is nothing." she whispered, unconvincingly.


End file.
